


The Chronicles of Naan

by MalTease



Category: Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-27
Updated: 2012-08-27
Packaged: 2017-11-13 00:37:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,285
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/497431
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MalTease/pseuds/MalTease
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Naan and Barley Mellark, welcome their new baby brother, with mixed feelings.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Chronicles of Naan

The two Mellark brothers welcome the new baby to their family. My second submission to Everlark Week. I hope you enjoy reading it. I definitely enjoyed writing it :).

"Daddy, girls have nothing down _there_ ," the little boy remarked confused, as Wheaton Mellark, District 12's only baker, changed the diaper for the newborn addition to the family. "Bessie _showed_ me," he emphasised, trying to make his point as gravely and seriously as a four year old child possibly could.

His father raises his eyebrows, giving him a sidelong look, denoting that he was rather less than impressed at the boy's knowledge-acquiring methods in the area of human anatomy. "Naan, are you going around looking down at little girls' undies now?"

"It was only a _peak_!" the boy replied, with self righteous indignation. "There was nothing to see there," he continued, ending his sentence with a muttered "looked _strange_ ".

His father stifled a smile, and tried to look sternly at him. "What brought this about Naan? Why are you thinking about Bessie's privies?"

Naan scowled back at him. "Am _not_ ," he huffed, "but why does the baby have a thingie if she's a girl?" His looked down at the baby with a look that ranged between confusion and slight terror, while the infant gawked at him with large, unfocused blue eyes as it flailed its arms helplessly, while its father finished off the diaper change.

Wheaton blinked at his son, mirroring his puzzlement. "Naan, Peeta is a boy, just like you. What in earth's dear name are you talking about?"

Naan gaped. "A boy? But Mama said that it was going to be a girl. She always told us so. This must be a _mistake_ ", he stressed, frowning slightly. Wheaton grimaced, and stole a look at his wife, who was staring at the fire, empty eyed, completely indifferent to her infant's squawking and whimpers.

"A mistake," she whispered, her strong jaw clenched tightly, "of course he's a mistake. What are we going to do with another boy Wheaton?" Her eyes shut tightly. "Take him away from my sight, _please_ ," she begged.

Naan spent a lot of time with his father, and was used to his various reactions and moods, but never once had he seen his shoulders sag in that sad, sad way, and never had he seen his daddy look at him with the tenderness that he was now looking at the baby, who draped her- _him_ self helplessly on his broad shoulders. Naan wondered whether to be jealous, but then decided against it. After all, Mama loved _him_ , while he wasn't quite sure she liked his littlest brother much. He followed his father upstairs to the room he shared with his other brother Barley, and just before they opened the door, they heard a loud crash and a small voice that piped out, "I broke it! _All by myself_!"

Upon opening the door, they found Barley, cheerful and refreshed from his afternoon nap, staring gleefully at the wooden chair that he had somehow managed to upturn with his tiny, chubby, two year old arms. He looked at his brother and father and grinned happily. " _All by myself_!" he emphasised again stressing each word in his own very Barley way. Naan patiently picked up the chair and wished for a sister.

"Barley, what did I tell you about breaking things?" Wheaton asked of his second son

wearily. Barley blinked at him blankly, cherubic and cheerful with his standard Mellark blue-eyes and fair hair. Myra often used to joke about the fact that she seemed never to be present at their son's conception, since there seemed to be nothing of her in them. She had been looking forward to sharing her green eyes and auburn hair with a daughter. But then Peeta arrived, looking as wholly Wheatonesque as his two brothers. The Baker wondered whether Myra would ever look at him again

without that pained, betrayed look in her face. The freezing wrench around his heart told him that the answer was probably no.

He lowered Peeta in his worn crib, his whole being bursting with protective love over this tiny defenceless creature that already had to suffer the worst betrayal of all, and he vowed to himself never to fail him. This little one managed to burrow for himself a special place in his father's heart with that one look of bewilderment that he had thrown at him when his mother refused to hold him in his arms following his birth. Wheaton swore that he could hear both their hearts break in tandem.

At that moment, however, he knew that he had a family to provide for, and a district that needed to be fed. He would never allow anyone to blame the little baby for anything, let alone for letting the population of District 12 go without bread for a day. He looked at Naan, serious and obedient Naan, who already seemed to carry Panem's burdens on his shoulders, and beckoned him to come next to the crib.

"Son, can I trust you to look after you little brothers until I close the bakery?" he asked gently. "You're a big lad now, the man of the house when I'm not at home, and Mama needs to rest for a little while."

Naan nodded determinedly. "Yes Daddy, I will stay here and take care of Little Peeta, but," he shot a furtive look at Barley, who had somehow managed to wriggle under the dresser for reasons unfathomable to anyone but himself, "do I have to look after _him_ too?"

Wheaton threw a sympathetic look at his eldest, and sighed. Barley was a handful, a whirlwind of joy that however caused physical wrecks. "You're a good son, Naan, you'll do fine. I trust you," Wheaton replied with a pat on his shoulder as he pulled his middle son out and set him next to his eldest. He ruffled their golden hair and kissed them both on the forehead before going down to the bakery.

Barley toddled to the crib and looked down at the baby. "Naanie, what does Baby do?" he asked, as he and Peeta stared at each other curiously.

Naan conceded the point that his brother was trying to make and cocked his head to the side. "Not much it seems," he replied with a slight tone of disgust. "I think we've been _had_ ," he added, somewhat disappointed. His father had promised so _faithfully_ that he would have someone new to play with, and all the baby seemed to was stare, drool, cry and poo.

"Do you like Baby?" asked Barley, trying to make up his mind.

"I dunno," his brother replied honestly. He was still trying to make his littlest brother out.

"What happens if I poke him?" Barley asked, while proceeding to his shove little index finger up the baby's nose. Peeta frowned and immediately broke into a furious, indignant wail, not amused at having his nose violated in such a way.

"Stupid! Look what you did!" Naan hissed in panic. His father had trusted him. _Trusted_ him! and he had failed miserably in a matter of minutes. Barley sensed his panic and instinctively stuck his finger out to his baby brother, who grabbed it in his little hand and held tightly. The baby's wails turned into little whimpering mewls, until he stopped completely, yawned and looked at both his brothers with sleepy eyes.

Barney grinned at his older brother. "See?" he exclaimed gleefully. "I fixed it! _All by myself_!"

Naan smiled back, and allowed his own finger to be grabbed by Peeta's little fist. "You're cute," he whispered in surprise, as smiled softly at the infant. "Welcome to the family, little brother."


End file.
